The operation room was heavy and warm, thick with the quiet urgency that only hospitals carried. The air smelled of antiseptic and something metallic~blood, fear, hope indistinguishable once you had learned to breathe through it. Machines hummed softly, a steady rhythm that mimicked a heartbeat, refusing to let silence take over.

Under the harsh surgical lights stood Dr. Nurvi Ahuja.

'Scalpel' she said quietly.

A nurse placed it in her hand without looking twice. Everyone in the room trusted her instinct.

Nurvi’s eyes flicked briefly to the monitor, absorbing numbers and patterns the way others read emotions. Her voice remained steady as she gave instructions~

Hours blurred into focused

movementWhen the final suture was placed and the monitors settled into a reassuring rhythm, a barely perceptible exhale passed through the room.

'It’s done,' she said.

Relief softened the shoulders around her, but Nurvi simply stepped back, removing her gloves with practiced ease.

Another life saved.

~~~

As she washed her hands at the sink, the water ran warm over her skin, carrying away traces of blood but never the weight of responsibility.

Nurvi looked at her reflection in the steel surface-calm, composed, unreadable.

the corridor greeted her with a rare stillness. The usual rush - stretchers, hurried footsteps, ringing phones-had paused, as if the hospital itself was catching its breath. The lights above hummed softly, casting pale reflections on the polished floor.

Someone stood at the far end of the corridor.'Nurvi,' a familiar voice called.

She stopped.

It was Dr. Vyom—a senior doctor almost her age, his white coat hanging loosely, confidence worn as effortlessly as his smil

Yes, Dr. Vyom? she replied professional by habit.

Vyom chuckled, shaking his head.

“Come on, not that. Just Vyom.

Nurvi raised an eyebrow slightly, the faintest curve of amusement touching her lips.

Vyom smiled wider, clearly pleased. You have to come today. Your friend—he paused for dramatic effect,

finally said yes to mee.

Nurvi blinked, then her face softened instantly. A real smile appeared this time not the polite one she offered patients or colleagues, but something warmer, genuinely

'Oh God, finally,' she said, shaking her head with a quiet laugh.

'You had to drag her to this point, didn’t you?'

Then, more sincerely, 'Congratulations, Vyom. I’m really, really happy for you.'

Vyom nodded, clearly relieved. 'Isliye ek chhoti si party rakhi hai. Bas close log. Phir ghar walon se bhi milna hai, toh'

Nurvi cut him off gently. 'Done. I’ll definitely come.'

Vyom grinned. 'Where is Suchi, by the way?'

"She’s busy with a surgery,"Nurvi replied. "You know her work first, celebrations later."

Vyom laughed. "Of course. That’s why I love her."

He checked his watch, already turning away. "I’m going to invite the others. Don’t disappear on me, okay?"

Nurvi nodded. "I won’t."

As Vyom walked down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance

Nurvi stood there for a second longer, the echo of her smile still lingering.

Then, as always, duty called.

She adjusted her coat, her expression settling back into calm focus, and headed toward the pediatric ward to check on her patients.

Inside a vast, beautifully decorated room, the walls were painted with cartoons and smiling animals.

The beds were clean, perfectly aligned but the real mess was the kids.

Toys lay scattered like battlefield casualties. Crayons had claimed the floor. One pillow was frozen mid-air, clear evidence of a recently ended war.

It was the pediatric ward.Ages five to eight. Energy unlimited.

Nurvi stepped inside and began her daily routine checkup moving from bed to bed, scanning reports, checking vitals, exchanging soft smiles. Laughter followed her, small voices calling her name, tiny hands tugging at her coat.

For a few moments, the ward felt lighter, warmer almost normal.But then~

her eyes paused.

The laughter hadn’t completely faded when Nurvi noticed him.

He sat on the last bed near the window quiet, still, untouched by the chaos around him.

A thin blanket rested neatly over his legs, his hands folded on top of it. While the others laughed, argued, and played, he simply watched.

Nurvi walked toward him.

"What’s your name?"she asked gently.

He looked up. "Aarav."

"And how old are you, Aarav?"

"Seven," he replied, after a brief pause.

Nurvi smiled. "Seven is a good age."

He didn’t smile back.

She pulled a chair closer and sat beside him. "You didn’t join the mischief today."

Aarav shook his head. "Mumma mana karti hai."

Nurvi’s voice softened. "Where is Mumma?"

Aarav turned his gaze toward the window.

"ICU mein," he said calmly. Too calmly for a child his age.

Something tightened in Nurvi’s chest.

He continued, almost like he was repeating something he’d said many times before.

"Unko bolna tha mujhe school chhodne aayengi… par ab main unko yahan dekhne aata hoon."

Nurvi swallowed.

"Do you miss her?" she asked.

Aarav nodded. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said,

"Aaj unka birthday hai."

Nurvi’s breath hitched.

"I made a card," he added, reaching under his pillow. He pulled out a folded piece of paper crumpled, uneven, colored with shaky crayons. On it was a heart, a sun, and two stick figures holding hands.

"I wanted to give it to her," he said. "But ICU mein paper allowed nahi hai."

Nurvi took the card carefully, as if it were something fragile.

"It’s beautiful,"she said.

Aarav looked at her, hope flickering in his eyes. "Aap de sakti ho na?"

The room suddenly felt very quiet.

Nurvi nodded, even though her throat burned. "Haan. Main dungi."

He hesitated, then asked the question that always came last.

Doctor di… Mumma theek ho jaayengi na?

There it was.

The question doctors feared not because they lacked answers, but because they carried hearts.

Nurvi placed her hand over his small one. Warm. Trusting.

"Hum poori koshish kar rahe hain,"she said honestly.

"Aur tum… tum bohot strong ho. Tumhari Mumma ko pata hai."

Aarav nodded, satisfied.

As Nurvi stood to leave, he stopped her. "Doctor di?"

"Yes?"

"Jab Mumma wapas aayengi na," he said, a faint smile appearing, "main unko bolunga aap best doctor ho."

Nurvi turned away before he could see her eyes.

Somewhere between machines and medicine, between crayons and courage, something inside her ached quietly.

She had healed herself once alone, unseen.

But moments like this reminded her why she stayed.

Because sometimes, healing wasn’t about surgery.

It was about holding hope carefully…

and promising a child that someone would try.

The Kashmir border never truly slept. It only pretended to—holding its breath between gunshots, prayers, and radio static.

Second-in-Command Trinay Shekhawat

stood on the watchtower at Post 17, shoulders squared, rifle slung but untouched. Snow dusted the barbed wire like an apology the land never meant.

Across the Line of Control, the dark hills stared back—quiet, arrogant, waiting.

"Sir;" a voice called from behind,

“agar yeh border bol sakta na, toh pakka gaali deta.”

Trinay didn’t turn. “Kisko?”

“Humko. Roz jagane ke liye.”

That earned a faint curve of his lips almost a smile.

Inspector Sameer Qureshi, his intelligence officer and professional nuisance, climbed up beside him with a steel mug of chai.

Sameer was Kashmir posted but Delhi bred—sharp tongue, quicker mind, and a sense of humor that survived even firing nights.

“Report,” Trinay said.

Sameer handed him the mug.

“Peene ke baad.”

Trinay took a sip. Too much sugar. He grimaced.

“Tum log mujhe zeher dene ki planning kar rahe ho kya?”

Sameer gasped theatrically. “Sir! Desh ke liye jaan de sakta hoon, par chai ke liye nahi.”

Below them, laughter echoed from the barracks. Havildar Rana, broad as a wall and twice as loud, was teaching a new recruit how to curse creatively without triggering the censor rules on the wireless.

“Yeh family hai, sir,” Sameer said softly, watching the men. "Dysfunctional. Armed. Loyal."

Trinay’s gaze softened—but only for a second.

“Movement update?” he asked.

Rana grinned. “Gaon wale bol rahe hain raat ko ek aadmi border ke paas ghoom raha tha.”

Sameer Qureshi ne turant bola, “Militant?”

“NAHI sir,” Rana said proudly. “Bakri.”

Teen second ki khamoshi.

Phir Sameer bola, “Border pe bakri kaun leke aata hai?”

Rana shrugged. “Sir, Kashmir hai. Yahan bakri bhi suspicious hoti hai.”

Trinay ne aankhen band kiye. “Patrol nikaalo. Bakri ho ya banda, confirm karna hai.”

~~

Team chal padi snow, jungle, aur Rana ke nonstop commentary ke saath.

"Sir," Rana whispered loudly

(jo bilkul whisper nahi tha)

“agar bakri hui toh kya procedure hota hai?”

“Capture,” Trinay bola.

“Sir, bakri ko handcuff?”

Sameer hansi control karte hue bola, “Tu bakri ko bhi FIR pakdha dega.”

“Sir, law sab ke liye barabar hai,” Rana bola proudly.

Trinay ne sirf ek look diya. Rana chup.

Achaanak Sameer ruk gaya, jaise hi uske binoculars ne kuch catch kiya.

“Sir… movement,” usne whispered, lekin voice itni loud thi ki Trinay ne aankhen thodi hi kholi.

Sab crouch ho gaye, rifles raised, hearts beating like crazy drums.

Trinay ne hand signal diya silence.

Bushes hile slowly. Ek shadow, phir dusra.

“Confirmed?” Trinay whispered, scanning the darkness.

Sameer squinted, tension aur panic ke mix mein.

“Sir… white color hai.”

Trinay raised an eyebrow. “Clothes?”

“NAHI sir,” Sameer said, face paled.

“…wool,” Trinay muttered, tone almost sarcastic.

Aur phir ek high-pitched, dramatic Meeeehhhhhh ki awaaz ne sabko freeze kar diya.

Rana almost gir gaya, rifle almost drop karte hue.

“Sir! Terrorist… neutralized!” Rana shouted proudly, pointing at… a very offended bakri, staring at them like “Seriously, humans?”

Bakri bhaag rahi thi, chaos mein. Rana neeche se peeche, chase shuru.

“Rana!” Trinay barked, trying to keep his sanity. “Fire mat karna! FIRE. MAT. KARNA!”

“Sir, agar yeh border cross ho gayi toh international incident ho jaayega!” Rana panicked, tripping over a snow mound.

Bakri ne ek dramatic pirouette ki aur seedha Sameer ke pair se takra ke ruki.

Sameer looked down, incredulous. “Tum hi ho jo intel de rahe the raat ko?”

Bakri ne eyes roll kiye, jaise “Seriously, humans?” aur ek second ke liye silence chhaya. Judging silently.

Trinay rubbed his temple. “I can’t… I literally can’t.”

Rana whispered, “Sir… should we… interrogate her?”

“Interrogate a goat?” Sameer laughed, shakily. “Bro, what kind of intel was this?”

Trinay finally let out a short, dry laugh, the first hint of amusement in days.

“Alright, mission accomplished. All casualties accounted for… except my dignity.”

Bakri gave a final glance at them, tail high, like she owned the place, and strutted off toward the village, every step full of attitude.

Sameer slumped. “Sir… I think we just got outsmarted by a goat.”

Trinay stared at the retreating bakri, hand on rifle, expression flat.

'…Not again,' he muttered.

Next day - 9:am

Trinay Shekhawat stood at attention in front of Senior Deputy Commanding Officer Mr. Batra.

Batra’s uniform was heavy with medals earned, not decorative.

Batra picked up a file from the desk.

'Trinay,'he said, calm but authoritative,

"I’m assigning you a new responsibility."

Trinay nodded. "Yes, sir."

"A new commando batch is arriving in Kashmir today," Batra continued."You will be responsible for their complete field training."

He slid the file forward.

"Fourteen candidates. Their bio-data is inside."

Trinay took the file. "Understood, sir."

Just as he was about to step back"One more thing," Batra said.

Trinay stopped immediately.

"This is strictly informational" Batra added.

"My granddaughter is also part of this batch. Her name is Aliya."

Trinay’s expression didn’t change."She’s… capable" Batra said after a pause.

"You’ll judge her like the rest."

"Of course, sir," Trinay replied without hesitation.

"And yes" Batra added, slightly firmer,

"be strict with her. No exceptions."

Trinay nodded once.

"Sir" he said calmly,

"during training, there are no relatives. Only trainees"

Batra studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod.

"That’s exactly why I called you."

Trinay snapped a crisp salute clean, perfect, professional.

"Yes, sir"

He turned and walked out.Outside, he didn’t open the file.Didn’t check the names.

Trinay opened the file.

First page

The photo caught his eye.His hand trembled just slightly.

A single tear landed on the paper.

The words whispered themselves, soft, unbidden:

"…meri duaa"

"To be continued…"

If any scene caught your attention, please share it in the comments 💖